


Seelie

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [84]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fantasy Racism, Logan has a bunch of sprite friends and they are Smol, M/M, Politics, Some Fantasy Racist microaggressions are committed by protagonists, harassment/bullying of children/teens by adults, part of this may count as Giant/tiny, public harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: “Blossom by blossom, the spring begins.”-Algernon Charles Swinburne
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Logic | Logan Sanders & Original Female Character(s)
Series: LAOFT Extras [84]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1365505
Comments: 30
Kudos: 520





	Seelie

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts:
> 
> "Does Logan ever get an official position/title within the court (Virgil’s and/or Spring)? Also, does he ever get his own coat of arms, since that seems like a court thing? (Does getting married affect Virgil’s coat of arms/entitle Logan to use it too?)" (from @centrumlumina)
> 
> "Anyways I don’t have a tumblr but if you take prompts from here at all could we get some more BAMF Logan coz we all know that boy is hella powerful??" (from duckduckdeuce here on Ao3)
> 
> There is an original character in this who uses she/they pronouns, and its my first time writing a character with multiple pronoun sets - i apologize if it comes off a little klunky!
> 
> many thanks to my friend Vivi (@trivia-goddess) for betaing, even as i commited the grave sin of sending her the draft in _comic fucking sans_

Years ago, Logan never would have thought that the sensation of sprites using him as a combination jungle gym and taxi service would be something he could grow accustomed to.

But then again, years ago he’d been fairly certain he would never even speak to another fae without some kind of derision involved, and now he was married to one.

So really, this was not that much of a stretch.

“Hey Fiore, hi L!”

“Hello Zinnia,” said Logan as he helped Hazel sit on the bench. Fiore, who was sitting on Logan’s shoulder with a death grip on the collar of his shirt, echoed the greeting.

“C’mere, Fee,” said Zinnia, flitting near Logan’s face, “I’ll help you down,”

“No!” said Fiore, “L will help me down, you always _drop_ me,”

Zinnia made an offended noise.

“You do drop us, Z,” said Thistle, faint and sudden; Logan jumped, alarmed. He looked down, and they were entirely too close to his _feet_.

“You know better than to sneak up on me, Thistle, especially on the ground,” Logan chastised.

The sprites continued to argue, and Logan decided to sit on the ground rather than force them to shout up at him. Fiore tugged on Logan’s hair, and Logan held out his hand, letting the nixie climb on and then setting him on the ground with Thistle.

“Lazy,” said Aster, who may have materialized out of thin air as he often did, “The fountain’s not that far, you always make L carry you,”

“It’s not far for _you,_ you have _wings_ ,” said Fiore, rolling his eyes.

“Walking is good for you! All the Hazel-lady’s mortal TV says so,”

“Aster, have you ever walked anywhere since the day you bloomed?”

“Well, it’s different for _pixies,_ obviously-”

“Smiley,”

Logan blinked, turning his head. Zinnia was right there, hovering only a few inches from his face.

“Pardon?” he said.

“You’re smiley,” she said, “It’s good. We like you to smile,”

Logan _was_ smiling, but something about Zinnia’s phrasing was odd.

“I have many reasons to smile,” he said, “I enjoy school, but I missed my friends and family, and my husbands,”

And, as it always did, the conversation came to a dead halt. Logan resisted the urge to sigh loudly.

Logan understood it in theory. “Fool me once” was a concept shared between humans and fae – and there _were_ no fae more clearly Winter than Virgil. Some wariness on the part of the Seelie, in the wake of all they had been through in the past century, was to be expected.

But _years -_ literal years, and almost just as long Logan had been coming to Hazel’s garden and spending time with these other Springs, and he _still_ hadn’t successfully managed to convince them he wasn’t being held _hostage._

Well. That was an exaggeration, actually – they _did_ at least seem to understand that Logan was in love with Virgil, and with him willingly.

The trouble was that they thought this was incredibly stupid behavior on Logan’s part.

He hadn’t seen any of them over winter break – the majority of Seelie sprites hibernated, and he’d only been to Hazel’s house a couple of times besides.

But now, back for the summer break, Logan had been with Virgil for more than four years and married to him for nearly one, and _still_ the mere mention of him made the sprites behave as though they were at a funeral.

“Tch,” said Hazel, “Silly little things. The Prince is good for Wickhills. You don’t have to sneak away to see me now, do you?”

Zinnia crossed her arms, pouting.

“No,” she said petulantly.

“He would never hurt me,” said Logan, a little sharp, “You are being _irrational_ ,”

“That’s what Winters _do_ ,” said Thistle quietly, “They _hurt._ They frost and freeze and they _kill things,_ ”

“That isn’t-”

Logan’s throat spasmed, and he scowled at the smug looks it got him.

“That is not the _only thing_ Winters do,” he said acidly, “And it certainly isn’t the only thing my _husband_ does,”

“I can’t understand how you _married_ him,” muttered Zinnia, quiet enough that Logan wasn’t certain she’d meant him to hear. His scowl deepened even further.

“I married him because I _love him_ ,” he snapped, “And as you seem to have conveniently forgotten, he also married _me._ It is not as if only one of us has a stake in this situation – I _know_ there were fae spying on the ceremony, invited or not. We all four made the vows,”

Zinnia scoffed.

“Oh, yes,” she said, “Swearing by water-”

“Inconstant and indecisive,” Aster cut in.

“-and fire-”

“Fickle and capricious,”

“-and the _dark_ ,” she finished bitterly, “By _rot,_ might as well,”

Logan was on his feet before he’d blinked, completely involuntary. Fiore had been sitting on his knee, and Logan couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about the fact that he’d gone tumbling to the ground. All of the sprites had scrambled back.

“I’m leaving,” he said darkly.

“No, you’re not,” said Hazel, taking his hand and patting him gently, “We are gonna go inside though, and give our Little Neighbors some time to think about how asinine they sound,”

“But-”

“Nope,” said Hazel, “You four have been incredibly rude,”

The sprites recoiled.

Logan meant to ignore Hazel, but it was one thing for him to storm off and quite another to shake off an old woman using his arm for support in order to do it.

Hazel managed to bully him into one of the kitchen chairs, in spite of the fact that he was by all measures significantly stronger than her. When she sat in the other chair she slid a mug of lavender tea across the table, the grace in her gnarled hands surprising him as it always did.

“They don’t know better,” she said.

“Impossible,” he said bitterly, “I have told them repeatedly. Thistle is old enough to remember before my husband went in the casket to begin with. Nothing about their behavior is logical,”

Hazel was already shaking her head.

“They’re not like us, Logan,” she said gently, “They’re so slow to change. More than a _decade_ I had this garden before one of them even spoke to me,”

Logan frowned; he sipped at his tea, thinking.

“What do you mean, ‘like us?’” he asked, “By the vast majority of measurements I have… significantly more in common with the sprites than I do with you,”

Hazel laughed.

“Oh, that’s a whole carnival’s worth of a joke,”

Logan gave her a confused look.

“Nah,” she said, “You might be the only person in the world who’s really both, in my opinion. But you’re a lot more human than most give you credit for,”

Logan smiled a little wryly.

“You may be the only person who thinks so,” he said, “Which is not a bad thing. I believe my loved ones like me as a changeling,”

Hazel shook her head.

“Definitely not the only one,” she said.

“Who else, then?”

She watched him, a little amused.

“I think the Lord of the Forest might have something of a _thing_ for humans,” she said, “How many hundreds of years, and nothing rattles his chain until you three?”

Logan choked, coughing at the tea caught in his throat.

“ _Hazel!”_

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous – I’m old, not dead,”

A tiny knock sounded at the open window, and Logan’s embarrassment and faint amusement went out like a doused campfire.

“Come in,” Hazel called to the window, “Are you quite finished being rude to L?”

Aster fluttered in the window, alighting on the counter and kicking his feet awkwardly.

“Well?” said Hazel.

Aster shuffled awkwardly.

“… We spoke rudely; we should not have trivialized your vows,” he said, “Or your binds to the Prince and the mortals. I apologize,”

Logan’s mouth twisted. Easy to pick up the implication – Aster knew they shouldn’t have said it, but he also hadn’t changed his mind. And he _wasn’t_ sorry – the apology was for Logan’s feelings, not regret.

“Are passing it on for everyone, or just you?” Hazel asked when Logan didn’t answer.

Aster kicked his feet again.

“… Just me,” he said quietly, “Fiore and Thistle aren’t mad or anything, they just think you’re wrong. Zinnia, um-”

He coughed awkwardly.

“Well, uh, she actually left,” he said, “I think she’s really upset,”

“Well, that certainly isn’t _my_ fault,”Logan muttered.

Aster winced, worrying his hands in front of him.

Logan felt the fight go out of him.

“I just don’t understand,” he said quietly, “I’m happy. You are my only Seelie friends. Why can you not be happy for me?”

Aster sighed, rubbing his hands over his tiny face as he rose from the counter.

“We’re _flowers_ , L,” he said tiredly.

“You can’t ask us not to fear _frost_ ,”

—

“Tell us,”

Logan winced, and Virgil knew he’d caught him. Patton made a soothing noise against the back of Logan’s neck, and Roman sat up on his elbow, draping himself across Virgil’s back so he could see Logan while Virgil fiddled with Logan’s fingers.

“Tell you what?” Logan dodged.

“ _Logan_ ,” said Roman quietly.

Logan deflated.

“… I went to Hazel’s house this morning,” he said quietly.

Virgil swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“What happened?” said Patton. Gentle, but definitely unhappy.

Logan gave a short, bitter laugh.

“The same thing that always happens,” he said flatly, “They were rude, and I left,”

“L,” said Virgil quietly.

“Don’t,” Logan snapped.

“They’re your friends,” Virgil pressed, “They’re only worried about you,”

“I said _don’t_ ,” said Logan vehemently, sitting up and making just about the most aggressive eye contact Virgil had ever seen him use.

“Do _not_ defend them,” he said, “As if there is any justification in considering you a threat to me – to any of us. As if there is any place on this _earth_ I am safer than here, now, with you, in our home,”

“Logan-”

“Do _not,”_

Virgil sighed.

“What did they say?” said Virgil, “It can’t have been _that_ unreasonable, Logan,”

“It _was_ ,” said Logan, scowling, “And I refuse to repeat it, it-”

Logan’s voice cracked, and Virgil _deeply_ regretted asking.

“Oh, babe, don’t cry,” said Roman softly, reaching over to touch Logan’s face.

“It was _cruel,_ ” said Logan thickly, “Cruel and unfair and _unfounded-”_

“If I’m being honest,” said Roman, “Now _I_ kinda want to know what they said. For completely innocent reasons, of course,”

Logan made a noise that might have been a snort or a hiccup.

“Innocent reasons, you say?” he said dryly, “Ask me if I believe that,”

“I think I can guess,” Roman replied.

“We won’t make you tell us, sweetie,” said Patton, propping himself up so Logan could turn his head to see him.

“But…”

Patton bit his lip.

“Gosh, _honey_ , it seems like every time you go, you… you come back upset,” he said, frowning as he pushed some hair back from Logan’s forehead, “I know they’re your friends, but…”

He wavered.

“… I don’t know,” he said, “I wish- I wish they wouldn’t say stuff that hurt you,”

“Mood,” said Virgil.

“Oh my- _Virgil!”_ said Roman, whacking him with a pillow.

“What?” said Virgil, fending off the pillow with one hand.

“You can’t _meme_ right now, it’s _serious talk time!_ ”

“What? Since _when?_ ” said Virgil indignantly, “ _You_ meme during serious talk time all the time!”

“That’s different!”

“ _How?”_

“I meme during serious talk time when it’s about _me_ ,”

Patton had set his forehead on Logan’s arm, his shoulders trembling with barely-contained laughter. Logan had thrown the other arm over his eyes, shaking his head, but his smile was bright.

“You are both ridiculous,” he said fondly, “Roman, do not attempt to assassinate our husband with your pillow,”

“So I can assassinate him with other things?”

“If it is possible to assassinate someone with affection you already have a decent head start; perhaps you might try that,”

“Translation: ‘Hey, can I watch you make out?’”

“And?” said Logan.

Patton broke into full-out giggling, and Logan grinned as he grabbed him around the waist and rolled him into the middle of the bed.

“ _Oof,”_

“Patton memed,” said Virgil petulantly.

“Patton made an _actual_ ‘oof,’” said Patton, twisting to face Virgil, “Meme time’s over, shushing-and-kissing time now,”

And well - who was Virgil to argue with that?

—

Logan wasn’t entirely sure who the absolute last person he expected to see in the woods just behind Hazel Coughenour’s house actually was.

This person was definitely towards the top.

“… Belladonna?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” she said immediately, turning on her heel and holding up her hands.

“Anything _wrong_ , you say?” said Logan, irritation welling up, “So you did _do something?_ ”

“Uh-”

She winced.

“Yeah. I did,”

“ _Bell,”_

“Oh don’t be dramatic, I didn’t squish any of your sprites,”

Logan threw his hands up.

“I don’t know how to communicate to you that _none_ of what you just said is in _any way_ reassuring, in a way you will understand,”

“Wait, really?” said Belladonna, “I mean, not squished is generally how I prefer _my_ sprite friends, so I figured, you know-”

“Wait,” said Logan, “What?”

“What?” said Bell. Her hands were still up.

“‘Your sprite friends?’” said Logan.

Bell looked uncomprehending for a moment. She blinked several times.

“Did I say that?” she said, “Odd thing to say. Why did I say that?”

“ _Bell,”_ said Logan warningly.

“ _Seeyoulaterbye,”_

“ _Bell,_ don’t you-”

Logan sighed. There was absolutely no way he was going to keep up with her at a dead sprint. He would have to confront her later, and hope in the meantime that she hadn’t done any irreparable damage.

Hazel was kneeling in the dirt, in her gardening hat and gloves, which instantly raised Logan’s blood pressure. Between her and May, both of them viewing aging as a rude suggestion, he was almost certainly going to have a heart attack at some point.

“L! Hi, L!”

Logan tensed slightly, but Zinnia showed no signs of the other day’s argument, or her subsequent departure.

It was one of the main reasons Logan kept coming back – Hazel said fae were slow to change, and she was right. They were _so_ constant, in fact, that no foul mood seemed to stick to them, no matter how angry they’d been. The sprites were always happy to see him – like it hadn’t even happened.

It had taken a while for him to realize they weren’t simply ignoring it. Every discussion that ended in an argument stuck with _him,_ but seemed little more than… water off a duck’s back to them.

They never held a grudge against him for longer than a day – and they never retained any of his arguments for even that.

Eventually, something was going to have to change. Either he would get through to them, or he would have to stop returning. He certainly couldn’t do this forever – not when even the gentler days left him queasy and longing for Virgil to hold him for hours.

There were no arguments this time, which was a relief. Logan was… well, not comfortable with, but at least accustomed to a variety of awkward silences. And Hazel seemed to be paying closer attention now, subtly redirecting the sprites’ attention any time the conversation strayed in Virgil’s direction.

Overall it was a much better afternoon, even if the sprites’ expressions when Logan said he was going home made him slightly nauseous.

It wasn’t Virgil he saw first when he returned to the fairy hill, but Patton, who took one look at Logan and frowned deeply. Logan was helpless in the face of “grabby-hands,” and sighed audibly in relief when Patton laid across his chest on the couch, a warm and soothing weight.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” said Patton quietly.

“Not really,” said Logan.

Patton fiddled with Logan’s collar.

“Should you anyway?”

Logan sighed.

“Probably,” he admitted, “But… later, please,”

“Okay,” said Patton, pressing a kiss just over Logan’s heart. Logan kissed the top of Patton’s head in response, eliciting a truly delightful giggle.

What followed was an equally delightful game of one-upmanship involving increasingly enthusiastic pecks and a significant amount of laughter. They wound up slightly disheveled by the time another of their husbands entered the room. Roman let out a low whistle and Logan felt his face heat up – Patton didn’t even pause kissing all over his face.

“You have no idea how much it _pains_ me to break this up,” said Roman, causing Patton to snicker against Logan’s cheek, “But Bell is harassing Virgil and says she needs all four of us,”

Logan froze.

Patton went immediately still in response, sitting up.

“What?” he said warily.

Logan resisted the urge to groan in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I have a feeling whatever Bell is about to bring up has to do with me, unfortunately,”

“Why would you think that?” asked Roman, as Patton and Logan disentangled themselves and followed him out of the room.

“Because she was at Hazel’s house,” said Logan, “I don’t believe she spoke to anyone, none of them mentioned even seeing her, but she was behaving very suspiciously,”

“Suspicious like she might have buried a body, or suspicious like she gave Remy something to make alcohol with she shouldn’t have?”

Logan blinked at Roman.

“I have no idea how I would differentiate the two things. I am concerned you apparently can,”

Roman grimaced, shrugging.

“And why would Bell have buried a body on Hazel’s property?”

“What are you telling people I did now, pretty boy?” Bell demanded, sticking her head out the door, “I’ll have you know I don’t off people without permission, thanks,”

“Which she does not have!” Virgil called cheerfully from inside the room.

“Do you ever think that we are perhaps slightly too comfortable with the casual discussion of homicide?” Logan asked Patton quietly.

“Maybe a little,” said Patton, wincing, “Got any ideas to curb it?”

“Not at this moment, but I’m sure I can come up with something,”

“And if you _didn’t_ bury any bodies,” he continued as Patton shut the door behind them, “What were you doing at Mrs. Coughenour’s?”

“Snitch,” said Bell.

“Loiterer,”

Bell rolled her eyes.

“Sit down, all of you – this is going to take a minute,”

Roman gave Bell an odd look, but he didn’t protest. Instead of sitting in a chair, Bell leaned against the table and huffed.

“So,” she said, “His Highness complained about those sprites of yours-”

“Tell me you didn’t, dear,” said Logan tiredly.

“Complain is a strong word,” said Virgil sharply, blushing, “I definitely don’t know what I could have said that would make _you_ worry about a bunch of pixies,”

“Have you ever seen a mortal get attacked by a swarm of angry bees?” said Bell lightly, picking at her nails.

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Then you understand why I am worried about ‘a bunch of pixies,’ your highness,” she said sweetly.

“But!” she continued, “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is, L’s sprites hate you on a purely personal level,”

“That’s the good news?” said Virgil dryly.

“It is,” said Bell, “Because it means their bitching is about their friend’s Winter husband, not the Lord of The Forest,”

“It’s… the same thing?” said Patton.

“Not to a sprite,” said Bell, “A personal gripe is a much different animal than a political one,”

“Wait,” cut in Roman, “What’s the bad news? And why do you need all four of us here for it?”

“Related answers,” said Bell, picking at some loose stitching on her sleeve, “The bad news is that there are a lot more Seelie in the court than just L’s pixies. And they are _all_ very unhappy right now,”

“Why?” said Logan incredulously.

Bell gave him a wry smile.

“You,”

—

“Me?” said Logan. Virgil’s ears were ringing slightly.

“Yep, you,”

“I’ve done nothing,” said Logan.

“That would be the problem,”

Logan frowned. He looked over at Virgil questioningly, and Patton and Roman followed his gaze, but for once Virgil didn’t have any more idea what was going on than they did.

Bell picked her sleeve. She was quiet for just a hair longer than was strictly normal for her.

“You may have noticed,” she said, her voice deceptively light, “That there aren’t quite as many Seelie gentry as there should be,”

No one spoke.

“Or maybe you haven’t,” she continued quietly, “It might not be noticeable to people who don’t have a frame of reference; the Spring and Autumn courts ought to be about the same size, but we aren’t,”

Virgil had noticed. The last thing he’d wanted to do was bring it up to anyone, or even think about it.

There had been plenty of Seelie gentry before he’d gone to sleep.

“But regardless,” said Bell, “This means that the current person in charge of the Spring gentry is a Sidhe woman everyone calls the May Lady – she was the most powerful Spring gentry around, so she got it by default despite being a little underwhelming in general,”

All of them stared at her, uncomprehending.

Bell sighed.

“ _Was,_ ” she repeated.

“Wait,” said Roman, pointing at Logan, “You mean-?”

“No one knows!” said Bell cheerfully, “If he was gentry it would be obvious, but you are – no offense – about as wild as they come,”

“The fact that you said ‘no offense’ makes me feel as though I ought to be offended,” said Logan flatly.

“So,” continued Bell, ignoring him, “You _clearly_ outmatch the May Lady. Aestus is the head of Summer court, and you could almost certainly kick his ass too, which would make you head of Spring court and the Seelie overall,”

“But,” she said, reluctant, “The Seelie gentry would just about rather pull all their teeth out with cursed metal tongs than take orders from a _Green Man._ The _wild_ Seelie have lost pretty much all faith in their gentry at all, and think _you’re_ the star’s gift to the forest, so they’re getting lippy with the _gentry_ because they want you in charge,”

“Everybody has even _less_ of a clue how to deal with you two,” said Bell, gesturing at Roman and Patton, “You don’t have courts like we do, so we can’t rank you that way, but you are undeniably _part_ of the court, between White and the knight’s oath and being _married to the Prince Regent._ And you’re fairly powerful yourselves,”

“This sounds… kinda complicated,” said Patton warily.

Bell shrugged.

“The Lord of the Forest married a wild fae, a witch, and human,” she said bluntly, “I did have _hope_ it would be simple for you, but not a lot of it, frankly,”

“How do you know all of this?” said Virgil incredulously, “And why haven’t you told me?”

“Because if I gave you reports on _every_ bit of gossip that might become a problem you would never see your husbands again,” said Bell dryly, “And because it was mostly just grumbling before dear Snowmelt came back to town. Now everyone’s getting twitchy waiting for him to _do_ something,”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” said Virgil.

“And I’m not trying to make him,” shrugged Bell, turning to Logan, “But you’ve _got_ to do _something_ , especially now that you’re _here_. Even if it’s just officially saying you’re going to leave the Spring Gentry to their own devices,”

Logan frowned down at the table, fiddling with his faintly green wedding ring.

He turned to Virgil.

“What does this entail?” he asked.

“You don’t have to-”

“ _I_ seem to remember,” said Logan, gentle but with an undercurrent of something as steady as an oak tree, “Something in our vows about ‘sharing joys and burdens,’ and I was perfectly aware I was marrying a prince, dear,”

Virgil swallowed. He wasn’t quite sure if the tight feeling in his chest was anxiety or something more tender, or possibly both. Roman and Patton were both nodding on Logan’s other side, all of them watching him expectantly.

“Alright,” he said finally, “Good thing you like to learn, I guess,”

Logan smiled, sliding his hand across the table to grab Virgil’s.

“Is is, isn’t it?”

—

The nymph Araminta wished their first revel had been _any_ day but _today_.

But she was a Summer, even if she was a bit of a poor excuse of one, and it was the solstice – there was only so long her mother would let her put off going. Their protests that plenty of wild fae never set foot in a revel fell on deaf ears.

“You are not a child anymore,” she’d said sharply, “You can’t avoid it forever,”

Araminta thought it was pretty reasonable for them to try and avoid it until they were slightly less likely to go up like tinder if they upset someone, but their mother didn’t seem to agree.

So she showed up and kept her head low as she walked into the clearing – she resolved to stay quietly with her family and, more importantly, as _far away as possible_ _from_ _Lord of the Forest._

Easy, right?

It had been a bare few years since the usurper had been killed, and while Araminta did have _hope_ that what her mother and sister claimed about Seelie being free to come and go was true, they were exactly holding their breath.

“You don’t have to stand at attention the whole time, Minty,”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled, “ _You’re_ not Seelie,”

Pomona rolled her eyes.

“I think if he’s not killed any of you in a fit of irritation yet, he probably won’t,” she said, “And it’s not like Unseelie think much of a _nymph,_ whether I’m an Autumn or not,”

A raw-head lumbered past, and Araminta bit her tongue to keep from shrieking, taking a half step back behind her sister.

The ogre noticed, turning to leer at her briefly with his rows and rows of needle-teeth, and she was pretty sure she was going to outright faint.

He moved past them, and Pomona huffed.

“The more you _cower_ the worse it’ll get,” she hissed, “You could at least _pretend_ not to be prey,”

“I’m not-”

Her voice trailed off with a wheeze. Pomona frowned.

“Well, _I’m_ not going to babysit you over here just because you’re acting like you’ve got root rot- I’m going to dance,”

“You’re gonna _leave me here?_ ”

“Are you gonna come dance?”

They glanced at the ring around the fire, spinning and twisting and almost _all_ Unseelie.

“Didn’t think so,” said Pomona, and before Araminta could say anything else she spun on her heel and floated into the crowd like a fluttering maple seed.

Well. Damn.

They stepped back immediately, as far from the other fae as they could get without disappearing right into the darkness and _asking_ for trouble.

No one seemed to notice her. They stayed there, carefully watching and wondering how long they would have to stay before their mother would be satisfied and they could go home and curl up in a tree in _peace._

Apparently, peace was not an option.

As goblins went, Araminta supposed grindylows were not that bad. She had even had a scant few civil conversations with one who lived just over the hill from them called Marsh, and if she ignored the way he laughed cruelly at her whenever she did something too _Seelie_ they were almost enjoyable.

 _These_ grindylows she did not know, but the snickering, at least, she recognized.

“Come dance with us, pretty tree,” said the one in front, totally without preamble.

She smiled, willing her knees not to shake. A split-second decision – she could be sweet or sharp, and either one could make it worse.

“I suspect I wouldn’t know the steps,” they said lightly.

Wrong thing to say, apparently - one of the smaller ones cackled.

“ _Steps,_ she says,” they crowed, “What, are you mortal? Nearly grown and still needs _steps_ to dance,”

Araminta flushed.

“Then surely there must be better folk to dance with,” she said weakly.

“No, I don’t think so,” said another leaning just close enough that Araminta recoiled before she could stop herself.

“We want to dance with _you_ , pretty tree,” he crooned, “Come now. You don’t get to be shy,”

“Hello,”

As one, the goblins startled, a few of them tumbling over themselves as they scrambled to turn.

Frowning, and back-lit by the fire, was the Spring Consort, staring at the goblins like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Araminta felt slightly faint.

“What are you doing?” he asked pointedly.

There was a long pause before one of the grindylows piped up.

“Only asking the pretty tree to dance,”

He turned to her.

“Do you want to join the circle?” he said, blunt and direct. She quailed.

“I… that is, I don’t know the-”

“You may feel free to answer it as a yes or no question,” he said gently.

They glanced between him and the gathered goblins. There was another pause, and then Araminta shook their head quickly.

“There,” said the Spring, “Very simple. Go away,”

The goblins bristled indignantly, but froze when there was just the barest tremble beneath their feet.

“It was not a request,” he deadpanned.

They scattered like cockroaches.

He approached them slowly, his eyes narrowed as he watched the grindylows disappear around the fire.

“Are you alright?”

She folded her hands in front of her, looking firmly at the ground.

“I appreciate your help, highness,” she said quietly.

He grimaced.

“That isn’t an answer to the question, and also I would much prefer if you called me Snowmelt,”

Her eyes jerked up, blinking at him in astonishment.

“Called you _what?_ ”

“Snowmelt,” he repeated, “It is an apt descriptor,”

Araminta should probably do something other than gape at him, but they couldn’t think of what.

“But- that’s, that’s an insult!”

The consort – Snowmelt!? - smiled a little.

“They think it is,” he said, tilting his head in the direction the goblins had fled, “However, they did still run,”

She snorted, and then covered her mouth, mortified.

He gave her a quizzical look.

“It was a joke,” he said, “Laughter was the result I was attempting to elicit,”

They were starting to feel like they were having some kind of hallucination. Snow…melt, shuffled a little awkwardly.

“I am not very good at this,” he said sheepishly, “If you would like me to find my husband, he is much better at it, although if you would prefer I simply leave you alone I will oblige,”

Araminta shook their head immediately, even though they… weren’t actually sure which part they were disagreeing with.

Snowmelt pulled on something stretchy around his wrist.

“Would you like to walk with me?” he asked, “I find myself somewhat restless,”

“Um…” she said quietly, “… Alright,”

They walked quietly for a few minutes – not quite in circles, but looping around the edges of the revel. They noticed he was avoiding leading them too close to the spot where his husbands were sitting, which was obviously for their benefit, if a little odd.

“Do you have anything you would like me to call you?” he asked after a while.

“… Pepper,” they said.

She was not expecting Snowmelt to laugh.

She flinched, and he held up his hands, shaking his head.

“Apologies,” he said, “It is not that your name is funny,”

“Than why did you _laugh?_ ” they demanded, before it registered that that might be a little stupid.

“It’s…”

He shook his head.

“There is a fictional character,” he said, “In a piece of, uh, mortal media, who is called Pepper Potts. My husband has expressed on numerous occasions that she reminds him very much of me, which I found… somewhat amusing, considering the reason I approached you in the first place,”

“… You had a reason?” they said.

He nodded.

“I- what reason?” she said, incredulous, “I mean… one Summer being bothered by goblins doesn’t seem… very important,”

The smile fell instantly.

“It is,” he said firmly, “It is very important, Pepper,”

She just blinked at him.

He frowned, looking off into the distance ahead of them.

“Years ago,” he said quietly, “There was a very frightened Spring child coming to the revels, and nobody deigned to stop goblins from bothering _him_ ,”

He turned back with a wry smile.

“I am of the opinion that children should not be harassed in public spaces,” he said gently, “So I corrected the situation,”

“I am _not_ a child,” said Araminta, indignant.

Snowmelt looked amused.

“I will not call you a child again,” he said, clearly placating her. She huffed.

“I do have a question,” he said, “Though you are not obligated to respond,”

“Alright,” she said, “I am listening,”

“Is there a reason you do not want to join the circle, beyond mere distaste?” he said, “You seemed… disproportionately nervous,”

She worried one of the leaves on the hem of her dress between her fingers.

“There’s… there’s a _lot_ of Unseelie,” they said quietly, “I didn’t want to be… you know. Outnumbered,”

Snowmelt hummed. He looked over at the firelight, considering.

“Let’s see, I think-”

He trailed off, muttering.

“Yes,” he said, firmer, “That would work. If you would like to dance, I can facilitate that for you,”

They looked warily towards the bonfire.

“I- what do you mean?”

He grinned, wider than any she’d seen so far.

“We would still be outnumbered,” he said, “But I can assure you, we are not outmatched,”

Araminta laughed again, and this time she didn’t stop herself.

“Besides,” he said, still grinning as he held out his hand, “It is the _summer_ solstice. There ought to be more Seelie in the circle anyway,”

It was cold when they entered, but it didn’t last long. The circle started lining itself with flowers instead of mushrooms – the air gentled from windy to breezy, and as more and more Seelie perked up at the scent of blossoming flowers and warm air and joined the circle, Araminta thought she maybe understood what the Spring had meant about Snowmelt not being an insult.

Later, when Pomona cornered them at home and shook them, shrieking and demanding to know “how on earth you made friends with the _Spring consort_ when you’re afraid of your own shadow,” Pepper just smiled, gripped the little square of woven fabric in her pocket, and could almost imagine its bright blue crest was warm under her fingers.

“Seelie secret,” she said cheekily, “You wouldn’t understand,”

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me at [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors over on tumblr!](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com)
> 
> Edit 12/16/2019: i TOTALLY forgot to add this when i posted it, so sorry, but [here](http://tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com/post/189281908045/guess-who-sank-an-evening-into-making-logans) is a link to that art i did of Logan's crest!


End file.
